Blown Away
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: She wanted nothing more than to escape. Escape the hell that was her life... so when she heard the unfamiliar rumble of storm clouds & tasted the sharp crack of lightning in the air, she saw her chance, & ran. After all, unusual to Oz or not, a storm such as this couldn't be more than an accident, could it? Or perhaps it was more a bizarre and unexpected twister of fate...


**Blown Away **

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: She wanted nothing more than to escape. Escape the hell that was her life, the privilege of her younger sister, the neglect of Nanny, the abuse of her father... so when she heard the unfamiliar rumble of storm clouds on the horizon and tasted the sharp crack of lightning in the air, she saw her chance, and ran. After all, unusual to Oz or not, a storm such as this couldn't be more than an accident, could it? Or perhaps it was more a bizarre and unexpected twister of fate... **

**A/N:Written: 2012. Found: 2019. - Licia**

_"Dry lightning cracks across the skies_  
_Those storm clouds gather in her eyes_  
_Daddy was mean a old mister_  
_Mama was an angel in the ground_  
_The weather man called for a twister_  
_She prayed blow it down_  
_There's not enough rain in Oklahoma_  
_To wash the sins out of that house_  
_There's not enough wind in Oklahoma_  
_To rip the nails out of the past_

_Shatter every window till it's all blown away,_  
_Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away_  
_Till there's nothing left standing,_  
_Nothing left of yesterday_  
_Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away, blown away"_

_\- Blown Away, _

_Blown Away album,_

_Carrie Underwood, _

_2012_

She smelled it before she heard it.

_Rain._

It wasn't uncommon for small storms to pass over Munchkinland- the kind that gave just enough rain to sustain the crops and wet the earth in much needed relief. But those storms passed quickly, often coming in the night after all were asleep and vanishing by morning, leaving the crops and earth bathed in a soft sheen of dew that spoke of a passing visit the night before.

But this...

Setting her pen down, she got up from her desk, padding on soft bare feet towards the window, where the curtain danced towards her on the wind. Through the part in the curtains, she could see the darkening horizon; how it seemed to gather quickly, rushing across the sky towards her. That in itself was unusual.

The crack of a whip sounded, as the sky split for the briefest of moments thanks to lightning. She could taste the charge of the lightning on her tongue, and slowly turned back to her desk. Despite the roaring thunder in the distance, the house was quiet, all the other occupants were sound asleep; she was the only one left awake. Like usual.

Taking a heavy seat at her desk, she let her gaze rest on the sheet of paper she'd been working on before the oncoming storm had distracted her.

_Dear Mama, _

_I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come visit, but things had been happening at home. Bad things. Father is attentive and adoring to Nessie as usual, but at night, after Nanny puts her to bed, he pays more attention to me. I don't like it when he pays attention to me, Mama. I wish he would just forget that I don't exist, like he does during the day, but at night, it's different- _

Hidden tears dripped onto the paper, obscuring the words and running the ink slightly. She sniffled, reaching up to swipe at her nose.

"I wish you were still here, Mama."

The house creaked, and she looked up, holding her breath, expecting the worst, but it never came. After a moment, she slowly released the breath she'd been holding. Another rumble of thunder tugged her attention away from the door, back towards the window. She could see the clouds racing towards her, faster now than before. Lightning once more split the sky, brighter and sharper than before, and it was then that she made her decision.

On quick, quiet feet, she stood, going to her small closet and pulling out a satchel. Hurriedly, she packed a change of clothes, her journal, and her most prized possessions- her mother's green glass bottle, a small stone-carved jewelry box that her been her grandmother's and held a few pieces of her mother's jewelry, the last book her mother had read to her, a small, hand-blown looking glass she'd played with as a toddler that a Quadling glassblower had made for her mother, and a small sketch of her mother in a simple frame that she'd nicked from her father's study one day- before grabbing her heaviest, warmest jacket, pulled on a pair of thick socks, and slipped into a pair of sturdy boots. She went to the window, reaching to close it, before she stopped. The wind whipped at her face, tugging her hair over her shoulder, and she backed away, deciding to leave it open.

Then, quickly, she slipped her satchel over her shoulder and blew out the light, casting her room in darkness before slipping out of the door and shutting it softly behind her. Making her way silently through the quiet house, she made her way towards the kitchen. Father had sent her to bed without dinner, simply for not having set the table in time. This had been the fifth night she'd gone to bed hungry; Nanny had ignored her quiet pleas for even the scraps from the evenings' meals, and now, with the house quiet and a storm fast approaching, she was going to take what she could, so that for at least the next five nights, she wouldn't have to worry about going hungry, not matter where she went.

As quiet as a church mouse, she opened the pantry, nicking slabs of dried meat and small jars of fruit preserves from the shelves before taking a few apples and a couple biscuits as well. Once done, she quietly shut the pantry door and latched it again, before making her way to the back door. It creaked as she opened it and she froze, expecting someone to hear; the thunder rolled, masking the noise and giving her a chance to slip out and shut it behind her.

The wind whipped at her face as she dashed across the yard, putting as much distance between herself and the hell she had called home for the last fourteen years as she could. Rain soon began to pelt her face, and she looked up, as lightning again split the sky- but now there was something new upon the horizon. She stopped, the sight of such a force of nature stopping her in her tracks and stealing her breath in awe.

A gigantic twisting column of air was dancing towards her, sucking everything that came within its path into the mouth at the base of its funnel neck. That neck, she noticed, led up towards a great, wide gathering of clouds at the top, something that reminded her of the flounces on one of her sister's dresses. It was beautiful in its destruction- the colors of the winds were almost green in color, similar to the shade of her skin.

She glanced behind her, back towards the house, where the pieces of her fractured life remained, safe in their beds.

_ But they're not safe. And neither am I. _

The roar of the twister was what got her moving again, and she took a deep breath, rushing ahead, subconsciously screaming that she was heading into the direct path of such a monstrosity. She pressed on; she knew that somewhere close, was a small, abandoned shed. It had been left to rot a few years ago, but still stood strong, and though it was in the path of the oncoming terror, it was the only shelter she could seek on such short notice.

Eventually, she reached it, and managed to tug the old, warped door open and slip inside, yanking it behind her. With it shut tight, she let her gaze wander around once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. A small, old bench, some old farm equipment, and a few old blankets were all that remained in the shed, and she hurried towards the farthest corner, snatching up the blankets as she went. As small as she was, despite her early teenage years, she managed to wedge herself between the rusting farm equipment and the walls. Holding her satchel close, she pulled the blankets around her, ignoring the musty scent of age, and buried her face in her hands.

The walls began to shake, slowly at first, then faster and faster, harder and harder, until it was so violent, she felt sick to her stomach. She clutched at the blankets and the rusting metal of the equipment, tears slipping down her cheeks as she let the realization of what she'd just done began to hit.

_You left your family in the path of an oncoming twister. They're all going to be killed._

The tears raced harder down her cheeks, as the winds picked up and the shaking and groaning of the old shed got louder.

"_I don't care! I don't care anymore! They were never family! They were not what a true family is! They are horrible! Evil!_ Only Mama-" She stopped, reaching into her satchel and grabbing the sketch of her mother. Her heart tugged at the image of her mother's face, the only image she had left of her mother, and she traced the sketched features. Her fingers found the green glass bottle that her been her mother's, and she burst into sobs, holding the sketch to her chest. In running away from her father and sister, she was also running away from her mother, cold in her grave, buried six feet under in the family cemetery for the last twelve years now. _"Mama." _

The wind screamed outside, matching her hard sobs, and she curled up under the blankets, making herself as small as she possibly could. Suddenly, she felt the boards at her back begin to pull, and she looked up. Something didn't feel right.

Had she been brave enough to try and stand to peak out of the small, broken window directly adjacent to her, she'd have found herself, and the shed she'd taken shelter in, in the eye of the storm. Tossed about like a rag doll, she clung to the farm equipment that pinned her against the walls, and prayed that the house that sat within the storm's path would be blown away, until there was nothing left but a crumbling foundation to signify that _something_ had once sat upon the plot of land.

Despite the screaming winds, she eventually heard the crack of brick and marble, the groan of wood and the screech of bursting glass as the twister began its war path across the house that had once been her home, sucking up debris and painful childhood memories as it went, stealing the lives of the three sleeping occupants without a second thought, as storms such as these were prone to do.

Her heart in her throat, she begged whomever was listening to spare her what her family was not. She begged to escape with her life, to a place that had never heard of Munchkinland, or green skin, or milkflowers or Unionism, or Wizards or Quadlings... a place that she could make her own, where she could start over. A place that could be hers... a place with people who loved her... a place... somewhere... _anywhere._.. over the rainbow that would undoubtedly follow this storm...

Hours later, she lifted her head, slowly remove the blankets and pushing herself to a sitting position. She must have passed out at some point. It was quiet, too quiet, and it made her nervous. Cautiously, she pushed the blankets away and slowly stood on shaky, unused legs, stuffing the sketch of her mother and the green glass bottle back into her satchel and picking her way between the equipment. Carefully, she made her way towards the door; she appeared to be back on solid ground, and she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the destruction she would find on the other side of the shed door.

After a couple moments, she managed to force it open, and cautiously stepped outside her hastily chosen storm shelter. A gasp escaped her, and she had to pinch herself to make sure what she was seeing was real. It wasn't the only surprise, though. A glance down at her arm revealed skin resembling warm caramel, and her heart leapt into her throat. She would have reveled in it longer, if it wasn't for the sight before her that tugged her attention away.

On the other side of the warped shed door, were nice houses, shops, and a blue sky as bright as her little sister's eyes. She clutched the satchel to her chest, and took a deep breath. There was too much to take in, that she couldn't process it fast enough, though something registered in her mind, a single voice, filled with fear and worry.

"Oh, my Lord! Are you all_ righ'_, child?"

She looked up in time to see a woman not much older than her mother had been when that sketch was done rush towards her. With soft, caramel skin and thick black hair, she should have frightened her, she was a stranger after all, but she didn't. Despite the worry in her voice, her face was kind, and soon, others joined her, asking questions and checking to see if she was all right. "Where," She swallowed. "Where am I?"

Several people shared glances, before the woman spoke. "You're in the Seventh Ward, child."

She furrowed a brow. "Seventh... ward?" The woman nodded. "Of... where?"

"New Orleans, dear. New Orleans, Louisiana. Don't you-"

"Mireyah, leave her be." A man's voice broke through the confusion in her mind. "I don't blame her for _no'_ remembering. She's bound to be shaken; she survived that tornado, in that old shed-"

She perked up at the mention of the twister she'd just escaped. "It's never happened before... my family..."

The woman's hand gently caressed her cheek, and she looked up. "Oh, you poor child. _Survivin'_ a twister as bad as that one, and_ losin'_ your family to it. Tornados aren't _as_ common as floodings here, but they _are_ common when the whether permits, but-"

"No it's not, not common." She murmured, and the woman decided not to press, for clearly the girl was in shock. "I... I wished for it, before I went to bed... I wished for an escape, and it gave me a twister of fate-"

"The poor dear's in shock. Let's get her into the house, quickly." The woman slipped an arm around her waist, helping to walk the shaking girl away from those gathered, away from the shed that had been her shelter, towards a nice-looking home mere feet away. As they left, she glanced back over her shoulder, and could have sworn she watched the shed she'd hidden in slowly fade away into the sunlight.


End file.
